Noodling
by AuralayKristine
Summary: Nick and Ellis share a moment of comfort on Virgil's boat. Could be slash, doesn't have to be.


If he never set foot on a boat again, it would be far too soon.

Nick dragged himself back up over the railing of Virgil's fishing trawler, wiping at the back of his mouth with a shaking hand. Dammit, he hated boats. He'd almost rather be back on shore with the zombies.

Almost.

Pulling himself upright and turning away from the murky water beneath him, he was startled to realize he wasn't alone on deck. He'd thought everyone else was down below, asleep--like he'd been, before the gentle rocking of the boat had forced him to lurch to the top before he sent his questionable meal of crawfish all over the cabin--but he hadn't actually counted bodies.

Ellis was sitting alone, at the back of the boat near the quietly humming engines, staring out over the water as they drifted under the moonlight. His gun was tucked securely at his side, and every once in awhile he would glance at one shore or another, but mostly, his attention seemed to be on the river.

Wondering if he'd been noticed at all, Nick had just about decided to head back below, not wanting to intrude on Ellis' solitude, when a soft, accented voice suddenly spoke up.

"Do you know what noodling is?"

Nick blinked, glancing behind him, but he was the only other one up there, so unless Ellis had gone off the deep end and started telling his random stories to thin air, he'd been caught out.

"No," he said.

Ellis turned slightly, so he was profile to Nick in the moonlight, and Nick noticed abruptly the hat he wore so faithfully wasn't perched on his head. Instead, he held it between his hands, and he was currently tracing the bill with his thumb. His hair, wildly curly and probably made more so from the fact that he always wore the hat, stood up in random directions, highlighted by the moon. Nick tried to tell what color it was, but couldn't in the indistinct light.

"It's a type of fishin'," Ellis continued, grinning faintly. "Actually it was illegal for a long time, but they changed that recently. You wade down a river like this one here," he waved his hand over the water, "and you feel along the bank for a hole, like." He held up his arms, indicating the potential width of the hole. "Once you find one, you duck down under the water and wiggle your fingers 'til a catfish gets interested, then you grab him by the mouth and tug him up, and bam. You got your fish."

"Sounds like a good way to lose a finger," Nick remarked, frowning a little as he moved forward to stand beside Ellis.

"It's more'n that," Ellis said, grinning broader now. "Folks've drowned doing it. Some of the fish put up a mean fight."

"Drowned by a catfish?" Nick's frown deepened. "You're pulling my leg."

"No, I swear to it!" Ellis said, holding his arms out as wide as they'd go. "Some of them get up to like a hundred pounds or so. I mean it! My buddy Keith, he landed one that was probably four feet long, no joke. And it's not just the fish down there, neither. There's snapping turtles, and they're mean little bastards. And you might run across a beaver or a copperhead if you ain't careful."

"Boy, that sure sounds like fun," Nick deadpanned, arching an eyebrow.

"It is," Ellis said, completely missing--or ignoring--the irony in Nick's voice. "Me an' Keith used to do it all the time. Caught myself lots of suppers that way, back before..." he shrugged, waving a hand vaguely, before sighing and looking down at the water again. "Before all this."

Nick frowned, lowering himself carefully onto the deck beside Ellis, wondering what he was supposed to say to that. Ellis got nostalgic sometimes; hell, they all did. There were plenty of things they couldn't do, now that they were on the run and fighting for their lives. Nick himself might not have put catfish grabbing on the top of his 'things I miss' list, but he could certainly understand the sentiment.

"I dunno, Nick," Ellis continued softly, staring down at his hat, with its tow truck logo on the front. "I guess it's stupid, but...it hadn't really hit me, you know? This...this could be our lives now. Forever. Just...runnin,' trying not to get eaten or slashed to bits or charged or spit on. Trying to stay alive. But...what's the point of bein' alive if we don't get to _live_ anymore?"

Nick bit his lip, surprised and moved by the simple, honest pain in Ellis's voice. A pain he realized he'd assumed the kid was too clueless to feel. But that was stupid of him. Ellis, for all his wide-eyed innocence and goofy stories, was no simpleton. There were times--like now--he could be downright profound. And maybe it wasn't right to let him continue to play the comic relief, when he was in just as much pain as they were.

But it was more than that, and he knew it. Ellis was their light--their _hope_. By the very innocence that had first led Nick to peg him as naive, he represented the best things about the society that was crumbling around them: goodness, kindness, simple human decency. And suddenly, he realized he desperately wanted to preserve those things about him. Nick might be a callous bastard, jaded to the world long before the infection set in, but Ellis shouldn't have to be. Ellis should _never_ have to be. And maybe if Nick could prevent it...could safeguard that innocence, that goodness...maybe he could somehow redeem himself, too.

Sliding closer to his friend, Nick slipped an arm around his waist, squeezing once and waiting until Ellis looked up at him. His blue eyes were slightly damp, and Nick reached up, tapping his nose with one fingertip. "I don't think this is gonna be it, Ellis," he said softly. "I really don't."

Ellis searched his eyes, his own beginning to light up a little. "You...don't?"

"Nah," Nick said, shrugging. "We'll get to CEDA, eventually, and they'll get our asses to one of the survivor camps, and then the army will wipe out the rest of these sons of bitches, or they'll die out on their own. It might take awhile, but it won't be forever. Then we'll have some major shit to clean up, but we'll do it, and things will be okay."

Ellis smiled, slowly. "You really think so, Nick?" he said, and even if Nick had been talking completely out of his ass, he wouldn't have been able to deny Ellis this shred of comfort.

"You betcha, kid," he said, squeezing Ellis's waist again before releasing him. "No doubt in my mind."

Ellis grinned wider, opening his mouth to reply. But just then, a sound pierced the silence of the night, one that made them both freeze, every sense on full alert: the strangled, mournful sob of a young girl.

"Shit," Nick breathed, wishing he'd thought to bring his own gun up on deck with him. Ellis was already pulling his into his lap, eyes scanning the shoreline frantically. Nick followed suit, straining to see through the darkness, looking for the familiar, lurching shape--or the huddled form rocking on the ground.

But he saw nothing, and after several long moments, the weeping faded again. Soon the only sound was that of the boat's engine, and the crickets chirping in the swamp around them.

Nick relaxed slowly, adrenaline reluctantly seeping from his system again. "Dammit, I hate those things," he said, glancing over at Ellis.

"Yeah," the younger man agreed, gun still sitting in his lap, though he wasn't clutching it quite as tightly as before. But the hope that had returned to his eyes had faded once more, too, replaced with something grim that Nick didn't like at all.

"Hey," Nick said, wanting to get their earlier levity back. He waited until Ellis looked up at him, then smiled, nudging him with his elbow. "Maybe when all this is over, you can take me...take me...nobbling."

Ellis's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Noodling," he corrected.

"Right."

"I dunno, Nick," he said doubtfully. "It's kinda dangerous. Have you ever even been fishin'?"

"Hey, I've been slaughtering zombies for the last few weeks!" Nick said, feigning offense. "I think I can handle grabbing a fish out of a hole in the mud!"

Ellis giggled. "Tell you what," he suggested. "Why don't we start out with just regular fishing? It's better, anyway, really. More relaxing."

Nick smiled, glad to hear the laughter--which had been the whole point, anyway. "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, stretching his arms over his head then leaning back, reclining on the heels of his hands. "And then I can teach you how to shoot craps."

Ellis looked startled. "How to _what_, now?"

Nick shook his head, unable to keep from chuckling. After a second, Ellis joined him, and soon the two were outright laughing as they drifted down the wide river, taking a break from surviving, just for a moment, to simply _live_.

* * *


End file.
